* * *

The strongest member of the Seven Dragons Society was the Gold Dragon Princess.

Likewise, the most threatening enemy had always been the Black Dragon Princess, while generation after generation, the most troublesome and persistent opponent had been the Blue Dragon Princess.

If the Green Dragon Princess was the hardest to kill, the Red Dragon Princess was the most exhausting to fight, and the Silver Dragon Princess was the one he most dreaded having anything to do with.

But if asked who was the hardest to catch?

Limon could answer without hesitation.

The White Dragon Princess.

With their precognition, the White Dragon Clan was unrivaled at sensing danger. Playing tag with them was no easy task.

Their record of fleeing from Limon for hundreds of years made that perfectly clear.

'What kind of joke is this?'

That was why this had been Limon's first thought upon hearing that Ainsha had gone missing.

But now, even he had to admit that the news was no joke.

"She still hasn't returned since going to the Temple of Muse to settle things?"

"Correct."

"And you've lost all contact with her?"

"Yes."

Limon frowned.

After entrusting Ainsha with investigating the Saint of Muse who had created the Violin of Deepest Black, he had heard that she had gone to the temple herself to confront the thoroughly uncooperative Church of Muse. That had already been several days ago.

Yet no one had heard from her since.

Under the circumstances, there was no word for it but "missing."

"Then why are you so calm?"

"Because Tata foresaw you bringing Her Highness back safely."

"... Then she isn't missing, is she?"

"Whatever the future holds, we do not know where she is now, and we cannot contact her. So she is indeed missing."

Limon shook his head at the woman in flowing clothes who answered his questions with such confidence—Tata, an elder of the White Dragon Clan as well as Ainsha's attendant and nanny.

'This is the trouble with the White Dragon Clan.'

Any other clan would have been in an uproar within a day of its princess disappearing. Yet here they were, utterly unconcerned just because they had seen her safe in a vision.

It was absurd.

Still, it was also fortunate.

If Ainsha had seen an ominous vision, the White Dragon Clan would already have stormed the Temple of Muse and perpetrated a massacre.

"Anyway, you contacted me because your vision says I'm the one who finds your missing idiot princess and brings her back?"

"Correct."

"Tsk. What does the Temple of Muse have to say?"

Clicking his tongue, Limon began checking for clues to Ainsha's whereabouts.

She had only gone to visit a temple. If contact had abruptly ceased during that simple trip, something had clearly gone wrong.

"They said they did not know where Her Highness went after her visit."

"And?"

"That is all."

"... You didn't investigate any further?"

"Of course not."

Why bother investigating when Limon was going to find Ainsha and bring her back anyway?

Limon fell silent at Tata's supremely confident answer, while Yu Na-gyeong murmured with a dazed expression.

["I've thought this before, but the way the White Dragon Clan thinks really is fantastic..."]

'That's not fantastic. It's just idiotic.'

For a moment, he considered saying to hell with the disappearance and simply going home.

In the end, Limon sighed and spoke.

"Then I suppose I'll start looking at the Temple of Muse."

Regretting once again that he had chosen Ainsha of all people to conduct the investigation, Limon nevertheless decided to look for her. But as he turned, a basket was suddenly thrust in front of him.

"... What's this?"

"Tata's homemade krembo. I have also included milk tea and lemon water."

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"Her Highness has been missing for several days, so she will not have been eating properly. Please give it to her when you find her."

"..."

["..."]

* * *

In the heart of Jerusalem, inside the towering Temple of Muse, a beautiful woman was wrestling with a headache of a problem.

'What am I to do about this?'

Rakht sighed.

Despite her appearance, she was already in her seventies. As high priestess, she had skillfully led the Temple of Muse for years, drawing on her wealth of experience.

This time, however, even she could not readily find a solution.

"O Muse, please watch over your faithful."

In the end, as befitted a priestess, Rakht tried to overcome this difficulty by praying to her goddess.

But a moment later, she was forced to break off her prayers.

"How dare you...! Urgh!"

"You scoundrel! Have you no fear of divine punish—Gack!"

"Wait! Let's talk, just talk—Ugh!"

As the temple suddenly erupted into commotion and a succession of loud screams rang out outside, Rakht's eyes blazed with fury.

'A heathen?'

In truth, disturbances of this sort were hardly rare in the Holy Alliance.

Jerusalem overflowed with so much holiness that news of fights between gods cropped up at the slightest provocation. Religious disputes were commonplace.

But that depended on the church in question.

Someone was causing trouble in the Temple of Muse, whose influence was considerable even within the Holy Alliance.

Nothing like this had happened in nearly a decade, and Rakht was furious.

That was why she shouted the instant she saw the intruder kick open the door to the prayer room.

BANG!

"Tsk, these damned fools. Once they start going on about the will of their god, there's no reasoning with them. That hasn't changed a bit."

"You! Who are you to cause a distur—Eeeeeek!—in the sacred Temple of Muse?!"

The next instant, however, Rakht was horrified.

The young priests guarding the entrance might not have recognized him, but she had been born in the Age of Heroes. She knew the intruder at once.

"L-Limon Aspelder?!"

White hair, a scar by his eye, and a sword at his waist.

The man's distinctive appearance was impossible to mistake.

Limon was unperturbed by Rakht's reaction, though she looked as frightened as if she had seen a ghost. He simply strode over, stopped directly before her, and spoke with his head cocked and his posture insolent.

"Was it you?"

"No!"

"... Do you even know what I'm asking?"

"Whatever it is, no! Our Church of Muse is a clean, moral religion certified by the Holy Alliance! We don't offer living sacrifices, commit fornication, or take drugs!"

The respectful tone had slipped out instinctively.

It was embarrassing for a high priestess over seventy, but she could not help it.

The man before her was an ancient monster who had lived for almost a thousand years.

Rakht, in particular, belonged to the generation raised from their days as young apprentice priests on warnings that the Sword Lord would come and kill crying children and corrupt churches alike.

It had been a very long time since Limon had seen that reaction. Frowning, he asked again.

"Not that crap. Were you the last person Ainsha met?"

"... Why are you asking about Her Highness, the White Dragon Princess?"

Even in her flustered state, Rakht instinctively grew wary.

Knowing Limon's old notoriety so well, she could hardly be ignorant of his bitter history with the Seven Dragons Society.

Limon addressed her coldly.

"Enough chatter. Answer yes or no. Was it you or wasn't it?"

"W-well..."

Rakht's eyes trembled as she weighed the princess of the White Dragon Clan, one of the Church of Muse's greatest patrons, against the Sword Lord standing before her.

Limon helped make her choice a little easier.

"Shall I ask your god directly?"

"Yes, it was me! I was the last to see her! Please, just spare our goddess!"

At that very instant, Rakht dropped to the floor and begged.

It was not merely his threat that had frightened her.

The moment Limon spoke, she had seen the statue of Muse, to which she had been praying so fervently, begin to tremble.

What had become of the gods and corrupt churches that had defied Limon in the past?

Humans might have forgotten, but the gods remembered vividly.

Thanks to Rakht's voluntary cooperation, Limon easily obtained answers to his questions.

"You really don't know where the idiot princess went?"

"I can swear it before the goddess!"

"Hmm. Is that so?"

Limon glanced aside.

The statue of Muse was bobbing vigorously back and forth as though caught in an earthquake rather than merely nodding. Seeing this, he asked another question.

"Then let me ask you something else. Why were you so determined not to answer questions about the Saint of Muse?"

"Well, actually, we don't have any records either."

"You lost the records of a Saint, not some ordinary priest? Are you kidding me?"

Limon was incredulous.

Ashamed though she was, Rakht desperately defended herself.

"It's true! Not only did I check, but the White Dragon Princess personally searched our temple archives too, and she couldn't find any records."

"... Ainsha checked them herself?"

Limon narrowed his eyes.

Though their standing had declined since the Silver Age, Saints still held considerable importance in their respective religions.

A Saint was, by their very nature, essentially a god's representative.

For no records of such a Saint to exist was even stranger than the complete erasure of a country's history concerning its king.

Why had that happened?

After briefly considering the question, Limon decided to resolve the situation through deduction.

SHING!

"Aaaah?!"

Ignoring Rakht's expression, which suggested she was about to faint, Limon abruptly drew his sword, strode over to the statue, and rested his blade against it.

"The records may be gone, but surely a god's memories haven't vanished too. Especially memories of a Saint who received her own blessing."

Limon smiled coldly at the divine image, now frozen stiff as a literal statue.

"Well? Shall we test whether cutting this can kill you? Or will you just talk willingly?"

She could tell him about the Saint, or tell him where Ainsha might be.

If she didn't spit out something, she was dead.

Faced with Limon's ultimatum and the blade that had slain even the Demon God, the statue of Muse trembled for a moment. Finally, in place of an answer, it shed tears of blood and used them to write a few letters.

【Τάρταρος】

"Tartarus?"

The moment he saw the word, Limon frowned involuntarily.

Not because he did not understand why Muse's statue had suddenly mentioned the underworld of Greek mythology, but because he understood its meaning all too well.

"... The idiot princess is in that Holy Alliance garbage dump masquerading as a catacomb?"

* * *

"I see. So the Sword Lord went straight to the Holy Alliance."

"Yes."

"Well done, Chao."

"Not at all. I merely did my duty."

On Leviathan's top floor, in the penthouse where she was working through paperwork as usual, Li Qingyu smiled at Wei Ling as she finished her report.

"Then go home for today. You must have plenty of work waiting at Guardian, but you should get at least one full day of rest."

"... Thank you for your consideration."

Whether she was moved by that consideration or depressed at the prospect of returning to the hell of overtime, Wei Ling answered in a subdued voice before vanishing as though melting into the shadows.

For some reason, Li Qingyu gazed for a moment at the empty spot where she had disappeared. Then, with a soft sigh, she returned to her paperwork.

Or rather, she would have.

Something slid through the air. Just as the air around her seemed to waver slightly, a blade suddenly appeared from nowhere, leveled at her throat.

"Drawing a sword without so much as a greeting? How uncharacteristically rude of you."

Even a fairly courageous master would have been horrified by the situation.

Li Qingyu was not startled.

On the contrary, she raised her head with a gentle smile, as though welcoming a dear guest.

Looking straight at the person who had suddenly crossed space to appear before her and hold a sword to her throat, she spoke her name.

"Rose."